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“Everything okay?” Mitch asks, turning around.
“Yes.” I nod.
I’ll ring Parker back later.
In fact, I’ll tell all the guys, but I had to get Kyra safely secured in my penthouse before I drew them into it. Then last night she kept me busy with her self-harm activities.
Goddamn her.
The rest of the night I spent stroking my cock in the longest shower of my life while I attempted to replace images of her with literally any other woman.
And failed.
Right now, none of the guys are accomplices and I want to keep it that way. I knew they’d figure it out, but I also know none of them will call the police. But limiting the risk to them, if this goes south, is important.
They’ll disagree, of course.
I’d do the same.
For now, while Pierce starts to lose his shit when he learns Kyra is gone missing, I’m watching her on the cameras via my phone app.
She’s slept a lot, paced the room, lain on her back with her legs up the wall, and had a shower. Then, reluctantly dressed in the clothes I provided.
I say reluctantly, because she pulled every item of clothing out and tossed them angrily around the room. Then carefully folded them all and put them back nicely.
She’s pathetic.
But I can’t seem to look away from the beautiful creature. Mostly, at that time, because she was half naked.Side note: tell my tech team that we need a better zoom on this app.
It’s like I’m addicted to some terrible reality show.
Except I’m her captor.
Kyra has small breasts with deep pink nipples and almost no hair between her legs. Which just emphasizes her youth. I might only be ten years older than her, but there’s an innocence to her that other women her age don’t have.
That doesn’t mean she’s not as sexual. The chemistry between us was so thick last night I almost couldn’t walk away.
Stop fucking thinking about her and stay on track.
I shake my head and watch the cars and buildings go by as Mitch drives me home. Parker must have connected the dots. Reports of Kyra’s disappearance hit the news this afternoon. Only one day after I had her removed from her home.
Kidnapped.
Say it.
Even for you, this is fucked up.
I’m not a good man. I can’t be. My soul was torn from my tiny innocent body before I can remember, and my heart doesn’t know how to love.
I have friends, closer than I imagine most people have, but do we love? I don’t know. It feels like we’re allies, walking through life, side by side, holding space for the shared pain we all endured as children.
None of us has the capacity for love.
We know right from wrong, but that doesn’t mean we don’tdowrong.
As I scrolled through the media and watched the news reporting on her mysterious disappearance today, I felt a thrill race through my veins that my plan was unfolding. Especially when they said, “There’s been no response from her fiancé’s PR team yet.”
I snickered.